


13x23 Coda

by canoftrash



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Dubious Consent, M/M, Poor Dean, Post-Episode: s13e23 Let the Good Times Roll, Top Castiel, adam whomst?, i don't fucking know i'm tired okay, not rape but i didn't want to trigger anyone, weird towards the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 17:45:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canoftrash/pseuds/canoftrash
Summary: Michael returns to the bunker wearing Dean. He ends up dying, but Dean is locked into a hallucination and slowly going insane.





	13x23 Coda

    Castiel doesn’t move from his spot for twenty-seven hours and forty-three minutes.

    Dean kissed him before he said yes. Dean kissed him- hard and rough and filled with what could’ve been. And if Castiel moves, he thinks he’ll forget it. It’s the only memory of Dean that he’ll have until Dean comes back. _Dean will come back. Have faith_.

    That was Dean’s problem, according to Heaven’s Castiel. Dean didn’t have faith. But Dean’s Castiel had _found_ Dean’s faith. It just wasn’t in Heaven- or Dean himself.

    Castiel tries to have faith. For Dean.

    Mary and Bobby have returned. They look to him for explanations, and Castiel gives them none. He sits in his spot, frozen. He runs through everything he could’ve said to Dean, every action he could’ve taken for the situation to be resolved without losing Dean or Jack or Sam. It takes him twenty-three hours and seventeen minutes to run through everything, and he sits there for another four hours and twenty-six minutes because _Dean kissed him and now he may not come back_.

    Sam and Jack teleport in hours later, with Jack so weak he can barely stand. Sam explains everything, down to Lucifer draining most of Jack’s grace. Mary and Bobby get Jack a chair and start to fuss over him, and Sam walks over to Castiel.

    Sam puts one large hand on Castiel’s shoulder, and Castiel stands up and turns to look at Sam. His eyes are red, but he stands taller. “We have to search for Michael.” Sam says it almost like a question.

    Castiel nods. “How?” he asks, voice rough from disuse.

    The sound of flapping wings fill Castiel’s ears.

    “There’s no need to _look_ for me. I’m already here.” And for a moment, all Castiel can hear is Dean’s voice, because it’s Dean’s vocal chords, but Michael sounds fundamentally different and Castiel knows it’s not _his_ Dean.

    Castiel turns to face Michael, and his heart tears in half because _his_ Dean would _never_ look at him the way Michael is right now. “Michael.”

    “Mary Winchester, Bobby Singer, Jack Kline, Castiel, and Sam Winchester.” Michael lets out a hearty guffaw. “I’m- I’m sorry. I’m just realizing that Sammy boy has been in the Cage.” Michael starts laughing again, and Sam visibly flinches.

    “So?” Sam says, his voice containing the faint underlyings of a tremor.

    “No, no, I’m just saying that when we were in- what do you call it, Apocalypse World?- yeah, that, I was talking to Lucifer-” Castiel shudders along with Sam this time- “and he- he told me all about what he did to you, Sammy. And I made some… _improvements_ on that for your brother. It’s like you’re constantly trying to one-up each other, with the pain and torture and whatnot. It’s like, first Dean ends up in hell, and then you end up in the Cage, and now- well, let’s just say that you thought the _Cage_ was bad.” And then Michael doubles over, laughter echoing through the room once more.

    Castiel doesn’t know what he’s doing, except that he needs to distract Michael. He leaps towards the archangel and punches him in the face as hard as he possibly can.

    Michael raises his hand, and suddenly Castiel can’t move. Michael’s blue-eyed glare is murderous as he flicks his wrist and sends Cas, Jack, Bobby, and the other Winchesters flying into the wall of the war room.

    Sam, Mary, and Bobby clutch at their throats. Michael whips his gaze towards Jack, who starts to scream. Suddenly a white-hot pain rips through Castiel's abdomen, giving him tunnel vision.

    “You know, Castiel, I think I’ll let Dean watch this as it goes down. First off,” Michael says, pulling the archangel blade from his pocket, “I’m going to kill the double of his father.” Lightning-fast, Michael puts the point of the blade at Bobby’s throat, then just as quickly switches it to Mary’s. “Then his mother.” The blade goes against Jack’s throat next. “And then his son. Don’t worry, I”ll eat the kid’s grace first. And I won’t do as bad a job as Lucifer did. The kid’s going to be totally human by the time I’m done.”

    Michael turns his focus back to Castiel and Sam, waving the knife between both of them. “And then which one of you should I kill? The brother or the one he _loves_?” Michael grabs Castiel’s face. “Maybe I’ll taint his last happy memory of you,” Michael says, drawing closer to Castiel despite his efforts to turn away.

    All of a sudden, a spasm rips through Michael. Cas, Sam, Jack, Bobby, and Mary all drop to the ground, panting. The loss of pain is like a breath of fresh air. It only lasts for a moment, though, before Castiel finds himself back in the same position. “Pathetic,” Michael growls. He stalks over to Mary. “Any last words?” he asks.

    “Fuck… you,” Mary grunts through gritted teeth.

    Michael’s smile turns into a snarl and he stabs Mary in the stomach.

    “No!” Castiel and Jack shout together.

    “Mom!” Sam cries.

    Another spasm runs through Michael.

    And then it’s not _Michael_ , it’s Dean. Castiel crawls a few feet forwards before collapsing. “Mom?” Dean asks, almost like a frightened child.

    “It’s okay, Dean,” Mary says, blood staining her grin.

    Dean touches her forehead, and light shines through his palm. Castiel looks down at Mary’s stomach. It’s completely healed.

    Dean’s features twist, and Castiel throws himself forwards, wrapping his arms around Dean in a protective grip and digging his chin into Dean’s shoulder. He’s reminded of when Dean was a demon and tried to kill Sam, except this time it’s not Dean fighting him, it’s Michael. For a second, Castiel almost believes that Dean has lost the fight. He looks up at the ceiling and prays, even though he knows his father is gone. But then Dean’s shoulders sag and Castiel pulls his head back to see Dean’s grin, even if it’s a bit forced, and Castiel can’t help but beam back at him and loosen his grip. It’s the best damn sight that Castiel’s seen. “I’ve got this, guys,” Dean says, his voice slightly strained. “He’s not getting out.”

    Then Dean frees his arms from Castiel’s grasp and stabs himself in the side.

…

    It’s almost comical, the way all their smiles fall as Dean’s limbs splay, blue fire burning through his eyes. Shouts tear the air as Dean collapses, forcing Castiel to his knees. _He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine_ . Castiel repeats it like a mantra, even as the imprint of Michael’s wings sear onto his chest and blood trickles out of Dean’s mouth and wound. _The burning should cauterize it. He’s strong. He’ll be fine_.

…

    Dean opens his eyes. The scene in front of him is frozen, with Bobby’s eyes widened in alarm, tears dripping from Mary’s eyes, Jack in the middle of a leap forwards, Sam lying on the ground with his arm outstretched, and what can only be Cas’s arms around him. Dean gets up and turns to face himself. There’s blue fire burning out of his eyes, and Dean seems to have freeze-framed at the exact second that Michael’s wings are burning- straight onto Cas’s chest. _Fuck. No, he can’t be doing that. I’m going to die, and he can’t have those scars. I can’t do that to him._

    Then he realizes that what he’s seeing is too good to be true. _This is a trap._

    Cas unwraps his arms from fake-Dean and stands up. “Dean, wouldn’t you have liked to live in the illusion for a little while longer?”

    “Oh, fuck you, Michael.” Dean’s expecting the blow, but that doesn’t make it any less painful. Cas looms over Dean as he clutches his nose.

    “I’m not Michael, Dean. I really am Castiel. I just… needed a ruse, so I can get back to Heaven. You’re not the priority any more, and we don’t think you’re useful enough to expend resources on.”

    “Wait, what?” Dean asks. Something inside of him is on the precipice of breaking.

    Castiel tilts his head in the adorable way that has always made Dean want to kiss him. “Don’t you remember, Dean? You got Death to make you trade places with Sam after he defeated Lucifer.”

    Dean’s thoroughly confused now. “And?”

    “You’re in the Cage now.”

    Dean feels like the floor has crumbled from underneath him. "Well, you’re here, so can’t you get me out?” he asks, trying to salvage whatever grip he has on his reality.

    Castiel’s expression remains blank as he delivers the executioner’s blow. “I just told you. You aren’t the priority. Sam is the one who defeated Lucifer, even though you were supposed to. He’s already on earth. You haven’t done anything but release the Apocalypse, and you’re not useful or powerful, so I’m going back to heaven.”

    Dean feels something inside him shatter into infinitesimal pieces, even as he’s trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’s in the Cage. “But- Jack? Charlie? Kevin? How do I remember them? What have the past seven years of my life been?”

    “Lucifer’s made you hallucinate, Dean. That was just another one of them.”

    “How do I know _you’re_ real?” Dean asks.

    Castiel’s face softens somewhat. “There’s one memory that you protected from Lucifer after all this time. The picture we took, right before you led us on the mission that got Ellen and Jo killed. He wouldn't know about that picture. I stood to the far right, next to Sam. You were jealous that I wasn't next to you. Your longing was very strong in that moment." Cas pauses. "It was for the best that Jo was next to you, though."

    Tears prick Dean’s eyes and the guilt threatens to choke him as he realizes what Cas is implying. “Cas-”

    “Dean. You’re just not useful enough.” And then Cas is gone, and Lucifer stands in his place.

…

    Castiel listens to Dean’s mutterings through a haze of pain, his worry increasing with each statement. Sam, Jack, Mary, and Bobby have clustered around him. “I think he’s hallucinating,” Sam says from far away.

…

    After Lucifer attaches the first few meat hooks to Dean’s limbs and sodomizes him, the pain sort of meshes together. At least Sammy and Cas are safe- that’s all that really matters to Dean. He just wishes that he’d _actually_ kissed Cas, instead of just hallucinating it. Lucifer seems to overhear the thought. “Aw, do you want me to make a Cassie for you?”

    Dean knows it’s not _really_ Cas whose dick is driving into his ass just a _little_ too hard, but it’s hard not to memorize the shape of his hands- long, with tapered fingers that scissor Dean open time and time again, soft from Jimmy Novak’s usual routine being as mundane as it gets.

…

    It’s only when Castiel comes to that he realizes that he had passed out. Dean is still wrapped in his arms, moaning that Castiel can’t discern the origin of- pain or pleasure- and Sam is sitting next to them. “He’s been groaning like that for the past half hour,” Sam explains. “We tried to move him to get at those burns of yours, but you wouldn’t let him go.”

    Castiel just wants Dean to wake up.

…

    Billie- _no, she’s a hallucination_ , Dean reminds himself- appears just as Cas hits Dean’s prostate. The pleasure doesn’t match the pain that Dean is in as the meat hooks tear through his flesh with each thrust, but he can’t bring himself to care, seeing as it’s the one time anything resembling Cas will have sex with him. “You know, the real Castiel is worried sick about you,” she says.

    The scene pauses, and so does the pain- and the pleasure. Dean glares up at Billie, too delirious to care that he's ass-naked with a dick in him. “You’re just a hallucination. Fuck off.”

    Billie laughs. “You’ve hallucinated all of _this_. And after what apocalypse-Michael put you through, I’m not surprised. Lucifer is the less painful option, but it’s still realistic. It’s funny. People assume Lucifer is the worse one, but Michael was one of the ones who put little Lucy in the Cage. Only reason our Michael went insane in the Cage is because he didn’t fulfill his destiny.”

    “No, I’m hallucinating _you,_ ” Dean says. The haze of pain is suddenly gone, and with it, panic is starting to claw at his throat and it's threatening to spill over.

    Billie snaps her fingers. Suddenly, Dean’s clothed and standing up, and an image of him wrapped in Cas’s arms with Sam next to them appears in front of him. “This is what’s happening in the real world.” The image zooms into a tiny spot on Dean’s forehead, and then Dean is looking at a cartoon version of himself whipping his head right and left. Cartoon Dean, upon seeing that there’s nobody around him, is assaulted by ghost versions of Michael. Cartoon Dean builds a box around himself, and the interior walls are painted with the scene that Real Dean was just in.

    “What the fuck?” Dean asks. "What the  _fuck_?" His breaths are coming in quick heaves now, his chest heaving like a bellows. His vision is tinging with black, and he feels like he's losing his grip on reality.

    “That’s basically what’s happened in your brain just now,” Billie explains.

    Dean sits down. _This is fake. This is fake. This is fake_ , he tells himself. “You’re not real.” This is worse than Michael-  _no, no, no_ , Dean thinks as the memories of Michael's special brand of torture comes back, making bile rise in his throat. "God."

    Billie sighs. “I didn’t want to have to do this.” Then she sticks her hand _into Dean’s chest_ and Dean is whisked through the cosmos. And he becomes Death once more.

    “What the _fuck_ ?” Dean says, staring at Earth’s face from the fucking _moon_ . “Holy shitting Christ.” _I’m not hallucinating_ , he tells himself. The feeling that comes with being Death is something that Dean honestly doesn't think anything else could replicate. Even as Michael, the sense of omnipotence wasn't there. “Make me wake up. Please,” he asks Billie.

    “Well, give me back my ring,” she says coolly. Her hand is still in Dean’s chest, which is a little bit weird. Just a little.

    “Oh.” Dean takes off the ornate ring, which has appeared on his middle finger, and hands it back to her, and she slips it on one-handed. “Wait. Billie?”

    “What?” she asks somewhat irritably. “I’ve taken away your hallucinations and most of your memories of Michael. The fear and the residual memories I can’t do anything about, but you’ll stay rational and grounded, and you'll know what's real and what's memories. Your body is healed. What more could you want?”

    “Uh, thanks,” Dean says.

    “Oh,” Billie responds. She twists her arm around, and Dean feels a sort of tickle in his chest before he’s being yanked through the cosmos again. He could _swear_ he hears Billie say, “Never heard a Winchester say ‘thanks’ for _shit._ ”

…

    Dean lands back in his body, and he opens his eyes once more. Sam is bawling like a baby and Cas has a vice grip on Dean. “What the _fuck_ ,” he wheezes, Cas’s cobra arms crushing his lungs.

    Both Cas and Sam yell in shock. “What the fuck yourself,” Sam gasps. “You’re not dead?”

    Cas has his angel blade at Dean’s throat, and for a second Dean feels like he's back under Michael's control before looking at the arm around him. It's clad in a trench coat and it's thicker and tanner than his own.  _It's Cas_ , Dean reminds himself. “I’m not dead! I was Death for, like, a hot minute, but I’m not dead!” he exclaims.

    Sam runs to get the monster-testing kit. Cas, however, doesn’t really seem to care whether or not Dean is a vampire or some shit, and the next thing Dean knows is that the angel blade has clattered to the ground and Cas is kissing him like there’s no tomorrow. Which, knowing them, there might not be, but who gives a flying fuck, seeing as Dean’s dry humping a literal angel?

...

    (Sam, apparently, gives a flying fuck.)

**Author's Note:**

> This is not meant to trivialize mental illness- I'm mentally ill and I hate it when that happens- but I didn't want to give Dean any more shit in his life than he already had. That said, I hope y'all enjoyed this ficlet.


End file.
